Categories
Poetry

The World is Sneezing

By Ndue Ukaj

The world is sneezing

The world is sneezing in front of a virus
that has bound the earth and shakes it like a light toy.
 
People are panting like dogs after a long and aimless journey.
Everyone panting, and behind walls they compose a symphony of fear.
 
Ahead of us, more scary walls and glum news.
The planet - like a trembling heart - is shuttered
and is listening to lightning.
 
Tonight, the moon was beautiful but in the light of her face
I saw the troubled eyes of a weary world.
 
The day was sunny too.
I was sitting in the back seat of a car
snaking through silence and fear
and I saw nature breathing without humans.
 
The clockwise are slow now.
Girls take their time getting out of their pajamas.
Women say their rosaries for new time.
And men like me are terrified in front of the black glass.
 
(Also terrified are those who sit in huge castles and on high thrones.)
 
Beyond is silence like a raging ocean
where ships drown with longing -
and prisoners see Eden burning.
 
The clockwise move slowly now.
The news spreads fear faster than the virus.
One counts the hours of life ahead
and sees the final destination - death.
Younger ones pant like tired dogs
and put out cigarettes in their burning hands.
Children fill sacks with toys
and, confused, wait for a new day.
 
But there are also those who don´t need clocks and calendars:
that old man sitting under his beloved tree,
doctors who fight to save more lives.
Groups of reporters roam, like the wind that warns of worsening weather.
Bad news is growing they say
because some people have closed their windows on good news.
 



The media is full of sadnesses
and troubling reports
overflowing with viruses and microbes.
 
Humanity sneezes anxiously.
In this long night of frightening darkness.
I sit in the back seat and watch the evil hearted sneeze
but also hear kindhearted voices confessing on the altar of forgiveness.
 
But when the cathedral bells ring
everyone turns their eyes to heaven.
They sneeze again and pant,
and pray that tomorrow the world will get better
and celebrate a great mass of love.





Laura’s Sunday

In her city there is a ruined cathedral
in the midst of ruins
its choir is missing
and there is an “Ave Maria” song.
On the road edges, stones relieve pain
only the choir traces are together with dry
flower bouquets
There are many dogs, and trash

There is a large piano without its proper place.
 
In her city there is a ruined cathedral
longing for bells’ sounds to awaken her
she wears a beautiful dress, whispers Ave Maria
in solitude.

She has a sweet voice, every Sunday she goes into the ruins, talks with stones,
with flowers that do not blossom easy
Through ruins
and wipes her happy eyes without trying the voice in a choir.
It is Sunday and her delighted eye is resting
She sings Ave Maria in solitude.
With an eraser of love she erases time’s invoice
which leaves behind
while gathering her hands over her pretty breasts,
in silence opens the new page
and writes a senseless verse.
It is Sunday
she is awakened while dreaming a love temple
and song sounds.
 
Ave Maria is alive!
and waits for nature to become prettier,
the same as a flower is prettier with all its beauty,
and to join the choir of life.
She walks over the ruins of the cathedral and lights a candle
her pretty knees touch the solid stones.

Ndue Ukaj (1977) is an Albanian writer, publicist and literary critic.
His poems has been included in several anthologies of poetry, in Albanian, and other languages. He has published several books, including Godo is not coming, which won the national award for best book of poetry published in 2010 in Kosovo. He has also won the award for best poems in the International Poetry Festival in Macedonia and another prize. His poems and texts are translated into English, Spanish, Italian, Romanian, Finnish, Swedish, Turkish and Chinese. Ukaj is member of Swedish PEN.

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